


Šuniukas

by zacharybosch



Series: An Uninformed and Amateur Foray into Puppy-Play [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: I mean kind of, M/M, Puppy Play, Sexting, fluffy blushy puppy trash, i dont know what im doing, i love hannigram sexting i can't help it, i've never written that kind of thing before so i don't know if it really counts or what, there's a collar and a leash, will blushes easily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacharybosch/pseuds/zacharybosch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“What… what do you think?” He couldn’t even look Hannibal in the eye. It was just about the most precious thing Hannibal had ever seen.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>“I think your neck was made for collars, Will.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Šuniukas

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](http://gomaccha.tumblr.com/post/51949239410/im-despicable) fan art.
> 
> the working title for this was "THIS FUCKIN PUPPY TRASH". the actual title is literally just "puppy" translated into lithuanian because i am a hack.

He’d come into Hannibal’s office that evening more agitated than normal. Will usually made a circuit of the room before he settled down in his customary armchair, but tonight he’d spent near enough their whole session pacing back and forth, from the window to the fireplace, fireplace to desk, desk to window. He kept on picking up a bag he’d brought with him, clutching at it and flitting his eyes about, then discarding it in some new part of the office. He’d retrieve it again five or ten minutes later and go through the whole thing again.

Their conversation was disjointed, followed no particular theme, and when Will began to climb the ladder to pace about on the mezzanine floor, Hannibal finally called a halt.

“Will, do not go up there.” Will froze where he was, two rungs up. “Please, come here.”

Will sagged against the ladder and slowly climbed back down. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just… sorry.” He slouched over to the armchair opposite Hannibal and sat, fiddling, pulling his glasses on and off.

“Your mind has flitted from one topic to the next in a desperate attempt to run from whatever is troubling you. You are frightened that acknowledging the source of your agitation will make it real, and it will devour you. Listen to me, Will: we are in a safe place. You don’t need to run. Tell me what the problem is.”

“I… I bought something. In the bag. For me. Over there. I wish I didn’t.”

“Buying gifts for ourselves is a practice I believe we should all indulge in more often. Treating ourselves as we would a loved one. Tell me Will, was it the act of buying the gift that has troubled you, or the gift itself? You were upset when you bought the fly-tying gear for Abigail. Does this feel the same?”

“No. Yes. No… I wasn’t thinking when I bought that gift for Abigail, I was somewhere else, upset. I was... thinking too much when I bought this for myself. Thinking too much about the wrong thing.” Will leaned forward and rubbed his hands over his face, sighing in frustration. “It was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have done it. It's trash. I don’t need it... I won’t use it.”

“What is it?”

Will looked up from between his fingers, meeting Hannibal’s eyes for the first time that evening. He shook his head and covered his eyes again. “I can’t. Can’t tell you. Shouldn’t have mentioned it...”

“Can’t tell me, or won’t?”

“Can’t…”

“If you can’t form the words, Will, would you permit me to look for myself? It would seem that this is something you feel ashamed of purchasing. Letting me know what you have bought may take some of the weight of that shame off your shoulders. I am your friend, Will: I am not going to judge you.”

Will made no noise, just nodded his head, minutely, once.

Hannibal walked over to his desk chair, where Will had last deposited the bag. Reaching inside, his fingers brushed up against soft, supple leather, and he heard the distinct clink of metal on metal. Hannibal smiled to himself as he drew out the contents of the bag and saw his suspicions confirmed.

Will had been touching his neck all evening. Rubbing the back of it anxiously, circling it briefly with his fingers, tugging at an imaginary collar. He’d talked about his dogs a lot, too, the ones that were easy to train and the ones that were difficult. The fact that different dogs needed different collars. The merits of a leather collar over a woven fabric one.

Hannibal caught on pretty quickly. Hard not to when it was so heavy handed, but he was sure that Will barely even registered half of the things he was saying.

This collar that Will had bought himself was a beautiful, rich shade of red. Hannibal thought how it would look as he buckled it around Will’s throat, the vibrant stripe of red sliding and tightening over his delicate, flushed skin. The hardware was a bright, shiny silver, a pleasing counterpoint.

The leash didn’t match, a rather uninspiring dull brown in colour, but it was a minor complaint. All in all, Will had done rather well.

He could sense Will squirming in the armchair behind him. Staying silent any longer would be unnecessarily cruel.

“You bought yourself a collar.”

“...Yes.”

“Do you feel that you need restraint, Will? Are you concerned about being let loose, worried that you will not return to yourself?”

“No, I… I thought…” Will trailed off. What had he thought? That he would present the collar to Hannibal on bended knees, that he wouldn’t need to speak a word because Hannibal would just  _ know _ what he needed, would fasten the collar around his neck and feed him a treat and lay him down by the fire? It was ridiculous to even entertain the idea, and whenever it had crept unbidden into his head, he had quashed it immediately. And yet here he was, desperately hoping his armchair would open up and swallow him, and Hannibal had the collar in his hands.

“What did you think, Will?” Hannibal moved from his place by the desk to stand directly behind Will’s armchair, collar and leash in hand. Will made a tiny, strangled noise and dropped his head against the back of the chair, eyes screwed shut. 

“I thought… I wanted-- no, I  _ want _ …” Of all the painful things Will had endured, trying to spit these words out was one of the worst.

“You cannot leave all your sentences half finished, Will.” Hannibal moved his free hand to rest gently on Will’s shoulder, thumb delicately brushing against the curve of his neck. “How will I know what you want if you don’t ask for it?”

A moan escaped Will’s lips before he could stop it. “God, please…”

“Please what?”

“Please…” Will’s voice shrank to a husky whisper. He pushed his head back further, making an invitation of his neck. “Please collar me.”

Hannibal moved the hand on Will’s shoulder round to cradle the back of his head and push it gently forward. His other hand brought the collar up to wrap round Will’s soft, pliant neck, beginning to flush just as Hannibal had imagined. Buckling the collar in place, Hannibal slid two fingers beneath the leather to test the fit, then couldn’t resist twining those fingers in the delicate curls coiling around Will’s nape. 

Reluctantly, Hannibal withdrew his hand and went to sit in the armchair opposite Will. The view was truly exquisite; Will’s face had turned the most gorgeous shade of pink as he twined the leash around his fist and pulled at it half-heartedly.

“What… what do you think?” He couldn’t even look Hannibal in the eye. It was just about the most precious thing Hannibal had ever seen.

“I think your neck was made for collars, Will.”

Hannibal wondered briefly if this was all that Will would need, to simply wear the collar. The fact that Will’s breathing had become heavier hinted otherwise. Only one way to find out for sure.

“I should make a note of this in your file, for future reference.” Hannibal picked up the large black notebook from the table beside his chair, then took the accompanying pen between his fingers and dropped it onto the floor. “I appear to have misplaced my pen. Please fetch it for me.”

Will looked from Hannibal, to the pen, and back to Hannibal. He could feel his cheeks burning as he slid off the armchair and onto the floor, leash trailing behind him as he crawled on hands and knees over to Hannibal’s feet and picked up the pen with his mouth. As Hannibal reached down to cup his chin and pull the pen from between his teeth, Will felt his whole body ignite.

He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, that Hannibal was  _ encouraging _ it to happen. He’d allowed himself to indulge in mild fantasies once or twice, and buying this collar was particularly reckless, but he never thought it would get this far. He knew how far he  _ wanted _ it to go, but would Hannibal let it? Current circumstances pointed to the affirmative… Will pushed the thought from his mind before he turned an even deeper shade of pink.

Will came out of his reverie, still knelt at Hannibal’s feet, to see that Hannibal had finished writing in his file and was now staring at him with the faintest hint of playfulness behind his eyes.

“You have been a very good boy today, Will. I know it was difficult for you to open up to me. Good boys deserve rewards.”

***

It became the norm for their sessions to end this way. Sometimes they began this way, too; Hannibal would open the door to the waiting room and Will would already be on his hands and knees, gazing patiently up at him, waiting for the collar and leash to lead him inside.

Neither of them spoke directly about it; Will was too nervous to push it any further, and Hannibal would wait for Will to ask. But that didn’t mean Hannibal couldn’t embellish what they were already doing, so when he grew sick of leading Will around the office with the ugly brown leash, he spent the next day visiting the most upmarket pet shops he could find in the city, until he eventually managed to get a finely made leather leash in the right shade of red. He said nothing when he clipped it onto Will’s collar during their next session, but the softening of Will’s face and the shy smile he shot at Hannibal were all he needed.

The following week, Hannibal took the collar from its special drawer in his desk and presented it to Will before he fastened it round his neck. Dangling from the ring was an engraved name tag, the same bright silver as the buckle. It was beautifully done, with just a little ostentation in the form of a delicate filigree pattern around the edge, to make it abundantly clear that Hannibal was the owner of this pup. When Hannibal buckled the collar to his neck, Will could feel the tag pleasantly cool against his skin and shivered with pleasure.

They’d been carrying on like this for some weeks now, and Will was becoming increasingly frustrated with his inability to take it further. He knew that Hannibal wouldn’t push it, knew he would make Will ask for what he wanted the way he had the first time. He wanted, he wanted  _ desperately _ , had spent many nights playing out fantasies in his lonely bed, one hand working between his legs and the other gripping his neck in the poor imitation of his collar.

_ Please pull your cock out and tell me to lick it.  _ Will couldn’t just come out and say it. He wasn’t even one hundred percent sure that Hannibal would be into that kind of thing… ninety nine percent sure, certainly, but not one hundred, and that one percent was enough to make him doubt everything. If Hannibal would just make him ask again, would place one of his gentle touches on the part he knew Will wanted to be used, and say  _ Ask me for what you want. _

But he wouldn’t ask if Will didn’t move in that direction first. He’d tried, not that long ago. Had misbehaved by repeatedly getting on the furniture when he’d been told not to, hoping for some close, handsy contact. Hannibal had punished him with a sharp smack on his ass. Only one smack, though, and while his hand had lingered and given the faintest of squeezes, it wasn’t enough for Will to work up the courage to run with it, and the moment passed.

Now, lying on his worn old sofa, anxious thoughts swirling round and round his head, Will felt a fool. He was acting like some blushing teenager. He was a goddamn adult, and adults asked for what they wanted.

Fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket, he started typing out a message.

_ i want to talk about what we’ve been doing _

Hardly an outpouring of feelings, but it was a good start. He hit send, before he could convince himself not to. It didn’t take long for the reply to come in.

_ What have we been doing? _

Of course Hannibal was going to try and drag every last filthy admission out of him. Of course he was.

_ you know what. the collar. dog stuff _

_ The dog stuff. Indeed. What do you want to say about it? _

_ i like it and i want to do it more but also MORE if u know waht i mean pls sayyes--  _ Will deleted and tried again. Less desperate, he thought to himself. Act cool.

_ i like it. i know you like it too. i want to do more _

Will’s heart was racing. He stuffed his phone under a cushion and went to the kitchen to chug a large glass of water. He nearly choked on the last gulp as he heard the muffled vibration of his phone. Laying back down on the sofa, he took a few deep breaths before digging his phone out from under the cushion and bringing up the message.

_ More? Would you like me to take you for walks at the dog park? I can’t say I am really one for throwing muddy sticks about. _

_ NO god no, dont say that it’s not even funny. i mean more as in… physically more, with you _

_ Now you have piqued my interest, Will. What did you have in mind? _

_ the first time, when i brought the collar to your office, you stroked my neck and made me ask you to collar me… i think about that a lot _

Will could feel the heat pooling in his groin as he typed the words and hit send. 

_ i think about you making me pick things up wiht my mouth _

In for a penny, in for a pound.

_ i think about you using mymouth for other thigns _

He didn’t even need to wait for a reply, the mere fact that he’d said something so sordid to Hannibal was enough to make Will start palming his cock through his jeans. 50 miles away, Hannibal re-shelved the book he’d been reading and lay down on his own sofa.

_ Only very good boys get rewarded with treats like that. Have you been a good boy? _

_ yes, ive been so good for you _

_ Show me. _

Will was shocked back to reality. Was Hannibal Lecter, paragon of class and elegance, genuinely asking him for a dick pic? He read and re-read the message several times. There wasn’t much else it could mean. 

Will switched off the main living room light and flicked on the little table lamp. Unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his shirt up a little, he shoved the waistband of his underpants down and grasped the base of his cock. If he positioned his arm just so, and got a little of his torso in the frame as well, it could almost be considered tasteful. The soft light from the table lamp helped. He snapped a few pictures and sent them off, feeling almost sick with excitement.

The reply was a long time coming. Will had to keep shoving his hands under the sofa cushions to stop himself from rubbing one out right there.

_ What a good pup you are. So hard for your master. You’ve earned yourself a treat. Would you like to know what it is? _

_ please _

And then nothing. It had taken Hannibal fifteen minutes to send his last text, and Will had been waiting for a response to this one for at least twenty. He’d gone soft, then hard, then soft again. What was Hannibal  _ doing _ ? 

_ hello? _

_ if you made yourself cum then fell asleep thats not fair! _

_ dont leave me hanging please?? _

It’d been forty five minutes since he’d had a response from Hannibal.

_ fine, you’re lousy at sexting anyway, i wasnt even that hard _

Fifteen minutes out from Wolf Trap, Hannibal glanced at his phone on the passenger seat as it buzzed with another text.

Will had been in bed for five minutes when he heard the crunch of tyres on his driveway. If this was Jack surprising him with a late night crime scene, he could go to hell. But halfway to the front door, a silhouette appeared in the glass, limned delicately in the moonlight. He would know that shape anywhere. Will crawled the rest of the way to the door.

Once inside, Hannibal bent down to ruffle Will’s hair and fasten the collar around his neck. The actual dogs, curled up by the fireplace, had looked up in confusion at the clinking sound of the leash and collar, but seeing something that wasn’t walkies and therefore not interesting, they soon settled down again. Hannibal led Will back to his bed and sat on the edge; Will waited obediently at his feet.

“You’ve been an exceptionally good boy, Will. The best pup a master could ask for. It’s time for your treat.”

Hannibal leant back on the bed and unbuttoned his trousers. Will, who until that moment had been shivering in his t-shirt and underpants, was suddenly not so cold. He watched with wide, hungry eyes as Hannibal slipped a hand into his trousers and stroked himself to hardness, then freed his cock completely.

Will let out a low whine and leaned forward on his knees, nudging his nose at the base of Hannibal’s cock and breathing in the heady scent of it. It glistened at the tip where the first few drops of pre-cum had already started collecting, and Will stretched out his tongue for a taste of his treat. He was stopped a scant few millimetres away by Hannibal’s hand grasping forcefully at his jaw.

“It is your treat, Will, and you earned it. But you must still ask me for it.”

“Please…” Will strained against the hand holding him in place. Hannibal noted with pleasure that he was blushing vividly. “Please may I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Of course you may.” Hannibal looped a finger through the ring on Will’s collar, and guided him down.

At first, Will just licked. He left a long wet trail from base to tip, licked it over and over until the underside of Hannibal’s cock was soaking and Will’s lips were slick with spit. Then he took the head, just the very tip between his lips, swirling his tongue around and sucking ever so gently. Hannibal pushed back the stray hairs that were flopping over Will’s forehead and into his eyes, and then kept his hand on the back of Will’s head, fingers coiled deep amongst the soft curls.

The sight of Will’s mouth, now enveloping much more than just the tip of his cock, elicited a particularly deep pleasure in Hannibal. As soon as he’d seen the collar in Will’s bag all that time ago, his mind had raced ahead down the various avenues it could open up in their relationship, and of all the things he’d imagined they could do, it was always a blowjob that aroused his interest the most.

Hannibal liked to fuck, of course he did, and he’d devoted plenty of mental hours to the thought of taking Will every which way and being taken in return, but there was something about sucking cock that had always set him on edge, in the best kind of way. In giving and receiving, there was a primal, carnal intimacy unmatched by much else.

It occurred to Hannibal then that, putting aside his own intense feelings about carnality and about Will, the blowjob he was receiving at that moment was objectively very, very good. This was evidently not the first time Will had done this. Not the second time, either, or the third, or fourth… Hannibal had little time to waste on jealousy, but he allowed it to flare up for just a second before he pulled Will’s mouth off his cock and kissed him long, hard, and deep. Whoever had had Will in the past, he belonged to Hannibal now.

“You’ve done that before, Will. Someone has trained you well. You’ve never made mention of previous male lovers.”

“I’ve never made mention of  _ any _ previous lovers. You never asked.”

“Maybe I should have.”

“Well, if you want something, Hannibal...” Will tilted his head down just a touch and looked up through his lashes, coy as anything. “You  _ do _ have to ask.”

Will lunged forward for another kiss and pushed Hannibal back onto the bed, one hand raking through his hair and the other wrapped firmly around his cock.

From there, it wasn’t long before Will had been divested of his t-shirt and underpants, and Hannibal of his full suit. They spent most of the night mapping the layout of each other’s bodies, kissing and stroking at secret parts they had shown to few others, opening and being opened, taking and being taken.

Will’s personal highlight of the night was when he was on all fours and Hannibal entered him, tugging on the leash still clipped to his collar and praising him (in between the kinds of gasps and moans Will never thought Hannibal would make) for being such a good, obedient boy. Hannibal’s highlight remained that first silken touch of Will’s lips against the head of his cock.

***

  
The next morning, gazing sleepily across the pillows and running a tired hand through flattened curls, Hannibal asked Will for what he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> writing this was weird. i have never been one for puppy play stuff but that fan art did something to me, and then i was taking screencaps of the episode in series 2 when will is taken to see the murder tableau at the observatory and jack pulls the mask off his head and the straps around his neck and curls and i cant??? i'm normally well into will being all dom-y but holy shit. anyway this stupid idea of collared will wouldn't get out of my head, so i just started writing. figured it'd only be very short, probably less than 1000 words. that didn't work out so well...
> 
> also sexting. hannibal and will sexting is just about my most favourite thing ever.


End file.
